Vicky Newham - Out of the Ashes

‘People always promise us things.’ She said it in a sarcastic, sing-song-y way and disengaged her glance. ‘ . . . and they’re always lies.’

I’d seen the wariness in Marta’s eyes when we were on the ward, but this wasn’t just that. Beneath the sarcasm was a quiet rage. And beneath that, something else lay, like a rumble of distant thunder. ‘Is there a reason why your brother-in-law might have been sleeping in the spare room rather than his own bedroom?’

She used the back of her hand to blot the tears from her eyes. ‘The spare room is his way of pretending it didn’t matter. He could shag whoever he liked as long as he didn’t do it in their bed.’

I was absorbing what she was telling me. ‘Was Indra OK with that?’

‘Of course not.’ She flashed an angry glance. ‘He promised he wouldn’t do it anymore, and then did it again and again.’ She muttered now. ‘Some men should have their dicks cut off at birth.’

‘Marta, do you recognise the woman in the photo? Or have any idea who it might be?’

She glanced at the image again and quickly shook her head. ‘I don’t recognise her but he could’ve just met her. Indra knows how I feel about Simas, and when they decided to make a fresh start in Brick Lane, she said she wasn’t going to discuss him with me anymore.’

‘OK. I appreciate that you may not feel sympathetic towards the woman in the fire, but someone is likely to be searching for her. Indra may know who she is. If either of you do, we can inform the woman’s next of kin. Also, her identity may provide vital clues on who might want to set the shop on fire, and why.’

‘I get that.’

‘Good. And to be clear – when my officer comes, we will need to interview your sister alone.’

She opened her mouth to protest and clamped it shut.

‘We will need you to give a statement too.’ She’d no doubt want to stay at the hospital. ‘I’ll ask the officer to take yours after Indra’s. The sooner we can find the person responsible for the fire, the sooner your sister can make an insurance claim and move on.’ I gave her my contact card. ‘Can you email me those photographs of Indra and Simas?’

‘OK.’ This time she met my eyes, and I sensed she was trying to decide whether she could trust me. ‘I will talk to my sister.’

‘I’m really sorry about what’s happened. I know how hard these questions are to answer. I can’t promise that it’s going to be easy for anyone, but I give you my word that I will not rest until we find out who did this.’

She acknowledged the comment with a curt nod and closed her eyes, as though she couldn’t believe what had happened.

‘A few final things – back on the ward, why was Indra looking to you to tell her what to say?’

Marta fiddled with her cigarettes and lighter.

‘It was the same when she called 999. You were in the background.’

‘My sister is much nicer than me, but she isn’t as strong as me. Living with Simas ground her down. She works all day, every day, and she’s been doing language classes. You can see how thin she is. Everyone thinks immigrants are lazy and can’t be bothered to learn English, and Indra was determined to prove them wrong.’ She paused. ‘I’m her big sister so now it’s my turn to look after her.’

I took in Marta’s explanation. What was bothering me was whether Indra had any inkling what her husband was going to get up to when she’d left for her sister’s yesterday. Did she believe they’d made a fresh start and that Simas had changed his ways? What a horrible mess.

‘Why did Indra phone 999 and say she thought someone had murdered her husband?’

‘I don’t know. I told her not to. It’s what we were arguing about. If you get someone to translate, what you will hear in the background is me asking her what the hell she’s doing.’

I recalled something that Indra had mentioned. ‘Why didn’t Simas accompany Indra to the hospital for her scan?’

‘Because he’s an asshole.’

‘Did he know that his wife was pregnant?’

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